


A Hard Heart To Win

by VYCanisMajoris



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cause Howard wasn't good, Child Abuse, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard's isn't, Insecure Tony, M/M, Maria Stark's A+ Parenting, Past Child Abuse, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, T'Challa's gonna need to work hard and woo him, Tony is a mama's boy, Young T'Challa, maria's A+ parenting is sincere, she's trying, sooo much, young Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-06 22:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10345932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VYCanisMajoris/pseuds/VYCanisMajoris
Summary: They reach each other in the center of the gala floor, and a loud beeping pierces through the noise. Tony looks down at his wrist in a detached sort of shock as the Timer beeps three times, before falling into silence.What?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Marvel Entertainment. Any writing is completely fan-made and I make no profit from this writing.
> 
> This a series I'm writing. I'm not sure how long it will be, but I'll try my best!

Tony stares down at his wrist. _Ten minutes, thirty-two seconds._

It’s… nerve-wracking. His soulmate is so close, yet so far away. As a child, he would wonder what they’d be like, tall or short, male, or female, soft-spoken or loud and carrying. 

Father- _Howard_ , always told Tony to stop his daydreaming, to focus. No one would want an idiot as a soulmate, no one would want a kid with his head in the clouds that can’t even make simple designs better, much less talk about stupid ideas that won’t work. 

_Seven minutes, ten seconds._

After Maria, the best person Tony knows, told Howard to fuck off, took Tony, and walked away with her head held high, she told Tony otherwise. She told him that he was kind and warm, and that he’s perfectly himself. That his mind is beautiful and unlike any other. No one could want anything better than Tony. 

He’s not sure if she’s right, but he hopes so.

Tony shakes his head, and looks around himself. The gala is boring, as always, filled with socialites and reporters looking for him to mess-up and be the next headline on their newspaper. He’d rather be back at school, with Rhodey and DUM-E, or in the mansion with Maria, Peggy, Jarvis and Anna, but no. This is for his mother’s charity, though, so Tony tries to be on his best behaviour. 

Tony looks around himself. He managed to find a quiet corner, away from all the guests, but the noise of chatter and clinking silverware still manages to reach him. He clasps his hands to stop their shaking. It’ll be fine, right? There’s nothing to worry about. So, he’s going to meet his soulmate, the person on this earth who’s best suited for him, who will make him feel alive, who will…

_Five minutes, fifty-six seconds._

Tony doesn’t want that. He doesn’t need that. He just wants someone who will understand him, who will listen. He just wants a friend, like Rhodey, but even deeper, though it’s hard to find someone who understands him as well as Rhodey. 

_Three minutes, forty-four seconds._

He’s on his feet now, when did he stand up? Tony doesn’t remember standing, but now he’s walking. His body moves of its own accord, leaving him dazed. Tony leaves his silent corner, and enters the fray once more. Reporters turn to him, but Tony pushes past them, eyes wide. His head won’t turn; his neck holds perfectly still. He stares forward, heart racing and hands clammy. 

_Two minutes, fifteen seconds._

He catches sight of Maria, standing tall in a strikingly red dress and glittering jewelry, the vision of beauty and elegance. She’s talking to a man with dark skin and smile-lines cut deep into his face. A smile is on her face, and she laughs at a comment from one of the three women standing beside the man. The women… they’re tall, with similarly dark skin, and fierce looks on their faces. Tony can see hilts peeking out from beneath their trousers, hinting at steel weapons that make Tony’s heart race in the bad way. What sort of bodyguards carry swords? 

Maria catches sight of him, and her eyes widen as she takes in his robotic movements. She doesn’t look twice before leaving the man and women, calling out, “Bambino?” over the noise of the gala, but Tony keeps moving, though he desperately wants to stop, to ask for her help.

_One minute, thirty-eight seconds_

“Bambino!” Maria calls again, pushing through the crowds of people. The man follows, brows furrowed, and the women withdraw their weapons from their sheaths.

_Fifty seconds._

His heart is thumping so hard that he thinks everyone around him can hear it. They must, since they’re staring at him with wide, unseeing eyes. 

_Twenty-one seconds._

Tony’s face is pale, his hands are sweaty, and he can taste blood from how hard he’s biting his lip. He’s going to meet his soulmate, and the only thing running through his mind is that his soulmate is going to _hate him._

_Eleven seconds._

A young man catches his eye. He looks to be around sixteen, the same age as Tony. He’s tall and lean, with dark skin and warm eyes. He looks like the man following Maria, and has similar smile lines on his face, though they’re much less defined in his youth. 

Three women follow him as well, similar to those following the older man. They hold dangerous weapons as they follow the young man, eyes narrowed on all who approach. Their gazes drop onto Tony, and if he could, he’d flinch backwards and run as far away as possible.

The young man is pushing through the crowd as well, eyes wide like Tony, but holding excitement. He meets Tony’s gaze, and a smile spreads across his face, showing white teeth and pink gums. They reach each other in the center of the gala floor, and a loud beeping pierces through the noise. Tony looks down at his wrist in a detached sort of shock as the Timer beeps three times, before falling into silence. 

The young man’s smile grows wide and brighter, and he reaches out to take Tony’s hand. Tony finds himself reaching too, and when their hands touch, warmth spreads from his hand, up his arm, and into his heart.

He feels his face heat up into a blaze, and the young man’s eyes grow heated. His free hand cups the back of Tony’s neck, and he leans forward. Their mouths meet in the middle, and Tony’s lips spark at the contact. Fireworks run through his veins, lighting up his skin and coming to his heart, where they brighten and heat up, burning through his chest in a searing fire. 

He pulls back, and Tony finds himself releasing a whine of distress. He blinks quickly, finally regaining control of his legs, and takes a step backwards. The young man follows, keeping his hand on the back of Tony’s neck. 

“T’Challa,” the man following Maria calls in a deep voice. The young man turns to him, and replies, “Baba.”

“Anthony!” Maria pushes past those watching, and lays a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder, “What happened, bambino?”

Tony’s mouth works silently. No words seem to come out, so he simply raises his left arm, showing her his wrist.

The Timer is gone, leaving behind a name in beautiful scrawl: _T’Challa._ Maria gasps, a hand coming up to her mouth. She looks around their makeshift group, eyeing the socialites and reporters watching, and whispers, “We need privacy.”

She takes Tony’s hand, pulling him from _T’Challa_ , Tony’s _soulmate_ , and says to the man standing behind T’Challa, “Let’s go somewhere more private, if you will, King T’Chaka.” 

The man nods, the man who Tony now realizes is the _King_ of _Wakanda_ , which means that his soulmate, T’Challa, is the… _Prince_ of _Wakanda_ , and… shit. Does this make Tony a Princess? Or is he a consort? Or… is he even anything? Will this even work? He’s the son of an American Warmonger, and this is the Prince of a country known for peace and neutrality. It’s like a shitty version of _Romeo and Juliet._

Maria pulls Tony along with her, and the King and Prince follow them. The Prince’s eyes gleam, and Tony can feel his gaze on the back of his neck. The more glaring presence is the women, who watch Tony with hard eyes. 

Tony wishes he had his mother’s strength. Maria leads their group through the gala, and her face must convey some sort of awful power, since the crowd of people part for her like the red sea. She’s always been strong, stronger than anyone should have to be.

He grips her hand tighter, and she replies with a reassuring squeeze of her own. Tony wishes he wasn’t here, that he hadn’t met his soulmate. He wishes his Timer hadn’t gone off, that he didn’t have all these people staring at him. 

Tony wishes soulmates didn’t exist.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony looks around the room, and his gaze falls on T’Challa, who stares unabashedly at Tony. It’s eerie, how powerful his gaze is. Tony wants to look away, but can’t. It feels as though a force is holding him in place, like before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Marvel Entertainment. Any writing is completely fan-made and I make no profit from this writing.

The silence rings in the air, hurting his ears. No one speaks, simply staring at each other with narrowed eyes, or, in Tony’s case, staring at their feet. He wants to shift in his seat, to move and burn off his excess energy, but he doesn’t. Howard taught him enough to know that fidgeting wasn’t befitting someone of their class. 

Maria tells him that it’s fine if he can’t control it, that a lot of children have the same problem. Tony wonders if their fathers hated that part of them as much as Howard did. It’s not like Howard actively hated how Tony was, just the parts of Tony that were too large to be ignored, that couldn’t be smoothed over, so if Tony did his best to hide them, then Howard wouldn’t be angry. That’s how he got out of most of the usually inevitable punishments.

Maria sits to this right, hand still holding his in an iron grip, giving him much-needed support. Tony glances over to her, and finds her matching brown eyes staring forward at T’Chaka and the others. She looks over to him, eyes wide, and offers a small smile. Tony shakily returns it, and she looks back to T’Chaka, face smoothing over into a calm façade.

“So,” Maria says, breaking the spell holding Tony still. He blinks hard and shifts in his seat, trying to get comfortable in this incredibly uncomfortable situation. “Our sons are… soulmates.” She says the word slowly, twisting it around in her mouth to get a feel of it.

T’Chaka nods, “They are.” His answer is short, his tone not unkind, and Tony wonders why. This man just found out that his son’s soulmate is the child of an alcoholic maniac, as Maria describes him. Shouldn’t he be angry? Be sharp and cold? They must know of Howard, the divorce made every headline in several different countries, and if they know of Howard, then they know what type of role model Tony had. They _can’t_ be serious. 

Tony looks around the room, and his gaze falls on T’Challa, who stares unabashedly at Tony. It’s eerie, how powerful his gaze is. Tony wants to look away, but can’t. It feels as though a force is holding him in place, like before. 

T’Challa stares into Tony’s eyes, a small smile still present on his face. The smile widens as he realizes that Tony is meeting his gaze, and he makes a move as if to come closer to Tony. The woman standing behind him, who appears to be the leader of that deadly group, looks at Tony, daring him to meet the Prince. Tony holds her gaze for a second before immediately looking away. He knows what they must think. The apple never falls far from the tree, especially from a tree as rotted as everyone says Howard is. 

“Introductions,” Maria says brightly, forcing a smile onto her face. “You, King T’Chaka, know me, but for your family,” she nods towards T’Challa and the women, “I am Maria Carbonell. This is my son, Anthony Carbonell.”  

“Call me Tony,” Tony says immediately, voice cracking. He cringes, and looks back down to his feet.

First, he kisses the Prince of Wakanda in front of hundreds of people, their parents, and the scary women watching, and now, he can’t even speak without cracking his voice. He’s sixteen; he isn’t going through puberty anymore! His voice shouldn’t be cracking!

“Hello, Tony,” T’Challa speaks up, voice smooth, and Tony looks up and meets T’Challa’s gaze again. “I am T’Challa.”

Tony gives a small nod, and T’Challa smiles widely. Tony’s cheeks heat up, and he wishes that he had Jarvis’s composure right now. He wouldn’t be blushing, or looking as completely awkward as he is. 

“I,” T’Chaka says, giving T’Challa a small look of what Tony thinks is amusement, “Am T’Chaka. These,” he gestures towards the women behind him, “Are the Dora Milaje. They are our bodyguards.”

Tony and Maria look to the women, interested and questioning. Why would bodyguards have swords instead of guns? They don’t have any shields, and their armor doesn’t look extraordinarily protective, but Wakanda _is_ further along in the sciences than any other country. It would make sense that their armor is better than it appears.

The leader steps forward, “I am Aneka. These,” she gestures towards her companions with a calloused hand, “Are Okoye, Ayo, M’yra, Teela, and Nareema.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Maria says with a kind smile, as charismatic as ever. Tony wishes he had her easy charisma. She manages to create, hold, and enhance conversations with ease that Tony fails to simulate. 

Tony shifts in his chair. Though he isn’t looking at T’Challa anymore, he knows the Prince is staring at him. He can feel the heat of his gaze, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It’s… warm, comforting, like an enveloping hug that lasts for hours.

“I suppose,” T’Chaka says laying a hand on his son’s shoulder, “The question is: where to go from here?”

T’Challa looks up at his father, eyes carrying a message Tony can’t decipher but wishes he understood.

Maria looks over to Tony as well, and he meets her gaze with wide eyes. He conveys his confusion and fear as much as possible into his eyes, and Maria gives a small nod. She turns back to T’Chaka, and says, “Our sons have only just met! We should let them acquaint themselves with each other before we move them along. We don’t want to force them into anything they aren’t comfortable with.”

T’Chaka nods, considering her words. “I could not agree more. We will be staying here for a few weeks more before returning home. That should give ample time to learn about each other.”

Tony watches this situation unfold with wide eyes. He’s… going to spend time with T’Challa? Why? Why would the King be alright with Tony? Hasn’t he heard the rumors? Doesn’t he know about Howard, about Obie- _Stane_ , and the company?

Maria reaches into her clutch, and pointedly doesn’t flinch when the Dora Milaje step forward, hands dropping to the hilts of their blades. She simply looks up with a smile, and slowly pulls a business card from her purse. She shows it to them before holding it out with a manicured hand, “This is my card. Please, call me so we can exchange information and set up a meeting.”

T’Chaka carefully takes it and hands it to Okoye, who pockets the card. “I will. May we escort you out? I fear the gala has ended while we talked.”

Maria nods, “That would be kind, thank you.” She stands up smoothly, and Tony follows, movements jerky. He keeps his face forward as the leave the room, refusing to look at T’Challa, at his soulmate.

If he focuses on anything but this situation, maybe it will all work itself out, and he won’t have to deal with the fallout of a soulmate who doesn’t want him. T’Challa hasn’t rejected him yet, but he will. Soulmates don’t last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, when Maria looks at Tony, she wonders how Howard could be so cruel to him. Tony’s small, short and as thin as a rail, with large doe-eyes that make him look so much younger than he is. He’s the vision of a child who needs protecting, but Howard never did protect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Marvel Entertainment. Any writing is completely fan-made and I make no profit from this writing.

Maria watches Tony fidget in the leather seat of the Bentley, and wishes she could make his fears go away.

Tony’s always thought too much, which isn’t bad. His mind is beautiful, the way he can take in so much information and cycle through so many thoughts and ideas while keeping up an engaging conversation about a different topic entirely.

With a mind like that, he understands people all too well, which isn’t always good. Howard always told him that he was too sensitive, that he needed to man-up, to be a Stark. She’s tried to erase those words, but it’s hard, cleaning the past remarks and hurt that’ve made themselves at home in his mind. She knows this herself, from every hateful remark Howard has thrown her way.

Tony looks over to her and away again. He wants to ask her something, it’s obvious, but he’s afraid. He’s never afraid to talk to her, unless it’s about something he thinks his words will be met with anger. Maria is used to anger, anger at herself, at the world, at Howard, _especially_ Howard, for making Tony so withdrawn, so afraid. 

“Yes, bambino?” She asks softly.

Tony’s eyes snap to hers again, guilty at being caught staring at her. His mouth scrunches up for a moment, before settling into a small line. 

“D-Do I…” he trails off, thinking. Maria watches him.

Sometimes, when Maria looks at Tony, she wonders how Howard could be so cruel to him. Tony’s small, short and as thin as a rail, with large doe-eyes that make him look so much younger than he is. He’s the vision of a child who needs protecting, but Howard never did protect him.

She’s tried to get Tony to eat more, to hide the ribs that poke out from his skin and the gaunt look of his body, but Tony’s always been forgetful, whether it was names, birthdays, or important things, like eating. 

“Why did T’Chaka act like I’m fine?” He finally bursts out, “Why would he even talk to us?”

Maria stares at Tony, eyes wide, “Why wouldn’t he?”

Tony gives her a look, and Maria realizes what he’s actually asking. She says, “Why would he talk to a family that associated with warmongers? Why would the King of a country known for peace and neutrality not outright condemn us, but actually treat us with kindness and respect?”

Tony nods, hand tightly clasped around his wrist, hiding the name left behind in beautifully curving letters. 

“I don’t know,” Maria answers truthfully. She wishes she did, she wishes she had the answers to give Tony, to make him feel better, but she doesn’t.

“What I do know,” she continues, voice stronger, “Is that you are kind, loving, and a joy to be around. You make people happy and feel included. I know that Prince T’Challa is lucky to have you as a soulmate.” 

“Why?” Tony asks her, “Why would _he_ be my soulmate? Why would he _want_ to be?”

“Bambino,” Maria reaches out, pulling Tony’s hand away from the wrist he’s gripping to tightly that skin is turning white. She turns it toward him, showing him the name. “The universe works in odd ways that no one understands.”

Tony looks down at the name on his wrist, hands twitching, and asks, “Do I have to be with him?”

Maria’s eyes widen. She hadn’t thought… “Is this because of Howard and I?”

Tony doesn’t answer, keeping his eyes on the name. That confirms her fear. How can she explain the truth to Tony without it sounding like a lie?

“Howard and I just didn’t work. That doesn’t mean the two of you won’t. You don’t even know him yet.”

“Exactly,” Tony looks up at her, cheeks bright with emotion, “I _don’t_ know him. What if he turns out like-like....”

Maria falls silent. She knows Howard treated Tony beyond horribly, and she’ll hate herself for how long it took her to realize that and get Tony away, but she hadn’t realized how much of Howard’s actions towards her soaked into Tony. 

“Then,” she says, voice scratchy, “You won’t ever have to talk to him, to be around him, to even think about him. You have a fledgling bond right now, you’ve only just met,” she parrots what she said to T’Chaka what feels like ages ago.

“So,” Tony says slowly, thinking, “If I d-don’t like him, we could break the bond?”

Maria nods, “Of course.”

Tony relaxes in his seat, and she continues, “But you need to give him a chance.”

The tension returns, and Maria smooths down his wild hair as she says, “There is _nothing_ saying that he will be like Howard. He and I… we’re the one percent in the world that don’t work. You and T’Challa,” she gives a small shrug, “You two could make each other very happy. You just need to try.”

“Why do I? Why do I need a soulmate?”

“Why would you abandon a boy you only just met without good reason, a boy who, from the short minutes I knew him, looked at you like you hung the moon? A boy that you looked at in the same way?”

Tony falls silent, the redness of his face now from shame instead of indignation. 

“Do you understand?”

Tony nods, and she gives him a sad smile. She wants to assure him that everything will work out, but she can’t. She isn’t sure if it will. 

Tony goes back to looking at the name, tracing it with his fingers. Maria was honest when she said that they looked at each other like they hung the moon. She remembers how she and Howard looked at each other when they met, and she knows that they were nearly identical to the boys. 

She also remembers the day Howard got too angry, with her and with Tony. The days he drank too much, the days he wasn’t around. She remembers too much of it, and hopes that the same won’t happen to Tony.

“King T’Chaka and I were talking,” she says, looking away from Tony’s wrist, “And he was telling me about his son, and how much he loved science. He said the T'Challa is interested in engineering, though he likes other areas as well.”

Tony nods, and Maria continues, “He also told me, after I was cornered by several reporters who asked too many questions about Howard, that he found Howard distasteful.” 

“Distasteful.” Tony echoes, a scowl on his face.

“One of the Dora Milaje, however, told me that they found Howard to be an jackass, which T’Chaka didn’t like, but I agreed with her.”

Tony smiles before saying, “The Dora Milaje are…”

“Terrifying?”

He nods, and Maria lets out a huff, “Good. I didn’t want to be the only one thinking it.”

Tony gives a sharp laugh, and Maria mirrors his small smile. Tony doesn’t laugh enough, but neither does she.

She reaches out and gently cups his cheek, “This isn’t something you should be afraid of. This should make you happy and excited.”

Tony blinks at her. He gives a small nod, “I know.”

Maria nods, and sits back in the leather seat. She knows Tony is lying, that he doesn’t feel how she says he should. She also knows that his fears aren’t unsupported. After seeing her divorce from Howard, the messy aftermath of their broken bond… she surprised he’s even agreeing to give T’Challa a chance. 

She looks around the car. T’Challa better treat her bambino right, or else she’ll get Peggy to work some SHIELD magic, and she knows Peggy will do it happily. She and Angie have always loved Tony like a son, much better than Howard _ever_ did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am,” Jarvis nods, “I know how you feel about soulmates, Anthony. I saw your mother and father interact, and though I can’t understand your emotions exactly, I can see what you think. Not all soulmates end like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Marvel Entertainment. Any writing is completely fan-made and I make no profit from this writing.

Tony sits on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs back and forth as he watches Jarvis mix cake batter with a studious expression.

“Nice apron.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jarvis replies, sparing a glance down at the ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron tied around his waist, “Ana thought it fitting for me.”

“She’s got the best taste.”

“She does,” Jarvis agrees with a smile. “As does your mother, who I suspect helped her pick it out.”

“Yeah,” Tony nods, stretching his arms above his head, “Mama’s got great ideas.”

“Many. She’s very trustworthy, and wise as well.”

Tony pauses, lowers his arms, and tilts his head, staring at Jarvis with narrowed eyes. Jarvis isn’t as subtle as he likes to think. “She told you.”

“What?” Jarvis asks, raising a brow as he speeds up his stirring.

“Mama told you about me meeting the Prince again in two hours.”

Maria told him two days after the gala that King T’Chaka had called, asking after her and him, checking to see if a meeting was still on the table for T’Challa and Tony.  
Maria agreed, setting a… Tony hates calling it a “Date,” but at this point, that’s what he has to call it. 

A _date_. With a _Prince_. A date between the son of a man who profited off war, from a country known for their power in warfare, and the son of a respectable, kind King, from a country known for neutrality and peace. 

_Hallmark_ has nothing on this level of complexity and hopelessness. Tony should sell this story to them; he could make enough money to create a fake identity and disappear to become a farmer somewhere obscure, but Aunt Peggy and his mother would find him within a day. 

“She did,” Jarvis admits, holding out the spatula for Tony to taste. Tony eyes him, but licks the spatula anyway. “How is it?”

“Good,” Tony crosses his arms, “Filled with the flavour of betrayal.”

“And how have I betrayed you, sir?”

“You haven’t told mama how idiotic this entire ordeal is.”

“Your mother can’t be convinced, and neither can I.”

Tony’s arms fall to his sides, and he stops the swinging of his legs. “You’re serious.”

“I am,” Jarvis nods, “I know how you feel about soulmates, Anthony. I saw your mother and father interact, and though I can’t understand your emotions exactly, I can see what you think. Not all soulmates end like that.”

“Not all, but some, enough.”

“You can say that about anything. Not all apples are red, but enough are,” Jarvis offers as an example. He shrugs, “Ana and I work well, Peggy and Angie work together… there are different endings to every story.”

Tony blinks slowly, eyes wide. He shakes his head, “You should’ve become a poet.”

Jarvis snorts, a smile spreading across his face, “Can you believe this, madam?”

“I can’t,” Maria replies, coming down the stairs while adjusting an earring. She checks it in a mirror and turns to face them. “How do I look?”

“Amazing,” Tony replies, spinning around on the counter. “In fact, you look way too nice to be meeting with a King. Maybe you should go to a fancy dinner, or the opera.”

Maria opens her mouth, but her reply is cut short by the soft ringing of her phone. She frowns, fishing it out of her purse, and holds it up to her ear, “Yes?”

Tony spins back to face Jarvis, “Help me convince her and I’ll help you find the best anniversary gift for Ana.”

“I already have it,” Jarvis inspects the batter, “She will never be convinced, and this isn’t something you should put off. Meeting your soulmate-”

“Is amazing in every way, feels like butterflies, makes your heart swoon,” Tony raises a hand to his heart, fluttering his lashes.

Jarvis tuts his tongue at Tony’s tone, but gives him the spatula to keep, and Maria speaks up, “What? No, no, they said it would be on Wednesday, not…”

Jarvis frowns and places the bowl of batter onto the table, and Tony turns around to watch Maria’s face shift in a series of complex acrobatics of emotions and thoughts. 

“I understand that, but they…” Maria sighs a heavy breath, “No, I know. I’ll-I’ll be there in twenty.” She ends the call and rubs the space between her brows, silent as she thinks.  
   
“Madam?” Jarvis asks gently.

Maria looks up, eyes tired, and gives a small smile, “It would appear that I need to go to the tower, immediately. An investor decided that their Wednesday meeting would be better today.”

“Rude.” Tony remarks.

She nods, “But they’re too important for me to put off. I’m sorry, bambino. I won’t be able to bring you to meet with the Prince today.”

“That’s fine,” Tony waves her off. “Nothing to be done. I’ll just call, leave a message-”

“Actually,” Jarvis speaks up, coming around the table. “I can take the young sir.”

The stress on Maria’s face fades away as she asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, madam. I will keep him safe.”

She looks over to Tony, eyes hopeful, “Is that fine?”

Tony holds back a sigh. He knew it wouldn’t stop the entire situation from unfolding, but he thought he could have an extra bit of time before facing the music. The terrible, discordant music. Don’t get him wrong, it’s not that he hates T’Challa, T’Chaka, or the Dora Milaje, it’s just…

“It’s fine, mama.”

Maria smiles at him, both sad and happy. She moves to the counter, ruffles his hair, and leaves a kiss on his forehead. Tony grumbles, rubbing away the lipstick stain, and Maria smiles at Jarvis, “Thank you, Jarvis.”

“No problem, madam.”

She nods, opening her purse and going through a mental checklist. “I’ll leave now, and I should be back around seven, hopefully. T’Challa and several of the Dora Milaje will be at the Night’s Inn. I don’t know how long it will be, but if it feels…” Maria pauses, looking for the right word, “Wrong, just make an excuse.”

Jarvis nods, “Yes, madam.”

Maria gives another strained smile, says a goodbye to them, and leaves the kitchen. Tony listens as the door shuts behind her, and the car engine rumbles to life. He looks at Jarvis, gaze serious, and Jarvis meets his gaze with a raised brow. “No amount of wheedling will make me give my stance.”

Tony pouts. “I don’t see why this is even happening.”

“You met your soulmate, your soulmate was incredibly enamored with you, as he should be,” Jarvis adds, “And now, because of this swell of emotion, he wants to know you further.”

“Thank you for the explanation,” Tony says, staring up at the ceiling. He wishes he was the ceiling. He wouldn’t have to do anything other than exist. Life would be simple.

Jarvis nods, picking up the batter. He pulls out some plastic wrap, covers the bowl, and slides it into the fridge. “Go get dressed, Anthony. Don’t wear your ripped or stained clothing.”

“Then what am I gonna wear?”

“Something nice.”

“My smile is nice.”

“It is,” Jarvis turns around to face him, “But I don’t think a smile and no clothing will work.”

“Ana says it does,” Tony mutters.

Jarvis’s jaw drops, and his usual poise dissolves. Tony giggles as Jarvis splutters for several moments before composing himself once more. A blush remains on his face as he says, “Go. Get dressed. Look nice.”

Tony frowns, “You’re no fun.” He spins on his heel and runs up the stairs. 

Jarvis calls after him, “And you aren’t talking to Ana anymore!”

“You try telling her that!” Tony replies, moving down the hall. He enters his room, and shuts the door behind himself.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you ready?”

Tony stares at the dashboard. 

At home, he could pretend that nothing was different, that he hadn’t experienced the biggest moment of his life, but now, the ease and comfort he previously felt has completely disappeared, and his stomach feels like it’s trying to create the most complex knot in existence. 

Jarvis sits beside him, cool and calm, watching small spatters of rain crawl down the windshield. 

They came half an hour early, and have spent the past twenty minutes sitting in silence, with the exception of Jarvis’s new question. Tony’s thankful for Jarvis and his understanding; he doesn’t think he’s up for talking about emotions anymore. 

“Yes,” Tony lies through his teeth. He opens the car door, and steps out into the chilly air. He’s glad Jarvis made him wear the jacket, though he could have done without the rest of the suit.

Jarvis comes around the car and stops in front of Tony. He reaches out and straightens Tony’s tie, before patting the spot over Tony’s heart, “You look dashing.”

“Dashing enough to convince them to leave me alone?”

Jarvis frowns, “Anthony, you must understand, meeting a soulmate… it’s something that everyone wishes for but few actually accomplish. I know your fears, but giving up without taking the chance… it would be an insult to those who don’t have the privilege of meeting their soulmates. The Timer, it’s a gift.”

A _gift_. Tony wants to laugh. If Howard were here, none of the conversation wouldn’t have occurred. Tony knows exactly what Howard would say.  
For one, Tony wouldn’t be meeting with T’Challa. Howard would tell him that no Stark _man_ would have a _man_ as a soulmate, that Tony better suck up the pain of a broken bond, with zero crying.

_No,_ Tony thinks. He’d tell Tony to shut up, to quit his whining and make nice with T’Challa, at least until Howard could secure a trading deal with Wakanda. Then, after he got the vibranium, Tony would have to cut off T’Challa, and deal with an even more painful broken bond that their current fledgling one. 

That wouldn’t work, Tony knows. King T’Chaka doesn’t look like a man easily fooled, especially not when his son is at stake. And T’Challa… Tony smiles, he seems clever, from what Tony has read.

Now, regardless of what Angie will say when she teases him, Tony is not a stalker. Sure, he may have looked up T’Challa once or twice, or for several hours, but that’s simply him collecting information to be prepared for topics that could come up. That’s all. 

“Think of it this way,” Jarvis says suddenly. He looks down at Tony, a new glint in his eyes, “Howard wouldn’t approve. When have you ever done anything that your fa-Howard hadn’t approved of? Especially when your mother, Aunt Peggy, Aunt Angie, and I do approve.”

Tony pauses, thinking. Jarvis has a good point, but… He lets out a soft laugh, “Peggy told you to say that, didn’t she?”

“I am clever, Anthony. I do think of things myself.”

“I know, I know,” Tony pats his arm, “Ana tells me how _smart_ you are _all the time_.”

Jarvis’s face scrunches up like he bit a lemon dipped in acid, “You will never be alone with her again.”

“Sure,” Tony nods, a smirk on his face. He forces the smirk to stay as he says, gesturing toward the restaurant with a widely thrown arm, “Let’s get going, don’t want to make a Prince wait, do we?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They stare at each other for a moment, T’Challa’s brown eyes holding Tony’s gaze with a focus that Tony didn’t know was possible, not for him, at least. It’s odd, he thinks, how warm T’Challa’s eyes manage to be, matching the warmth of his hands on Tony’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Marvel Entertainment. Any writing is completely fan-made and I make no profit from this writing.

They enter the restaurant, and Tony looks around the entrance. It isn’t flashy at all, not decorated ostentatiously, but also not drab and dull. It’s a nice place, all in all, but not the type of place one would expect a King to frequent. 

Jarvis takes the lead, moving to the hostess and asking, “We are here for the-”

“Mr. Carbonell,” a familiar voice calls, and they turn to see one of the Dora Milaje, Okoye, striding toward them. She nods to Tony, and then to Jarvis, who holds out a hand and says, “I’m Edwin Jarvis, Mr. Carbonell’s caretaker.”

Okoye reaches out to take his hand, and asks, “Will Ms. Carbonell be attending?”

Jarvis shakes his head. “Ms. Carbonell sends her apologies, as there was an unforeseen problem that required her immediate attention.”

Okoye nods, glances at Tony, and asks, “How are you today?”

“Good,” Tony says, giving her a tight-lipped smile. She looks to Jarvis, who says them same, then gestures toward the hall behind her and asks, “Shall we?”

Tony’s chest goes tight at that, and he wonders if he’s having a heart attack. He knows he isn’t, but his heart pounds hard enough to make his hands twitch. Tony clenches his hands into fists, fingernails pressing into his palms. 

“Sounds great.” Jarvis keeps up a bright smile, and follows Okoye down the hall. Tony walks beside Jarvis, keeping close to the older man, who reaches out to grasp Tony’s hand, and Tony relaxes his hands, not realizing that he was still clenching them. Jarvis gives it a quick squeeze that brings a small smile to Tony’s face.

Okoye doesn’t look back to them as they walk, keeping her head high and back straight. She gestures toward an upcoming door, and says, “They are inside. Prince T’Challa is very… excited to see you.” 

Tony frowns at the emphasis, and asks, “What do you mean?”

She doesn’t reply, but Jarvis smiles a bit wider and says, “Distance makes the heart grow fonder, and makes soulmates antsy.” Jarvis gives Tony a pointed look at that. Tony’s reply is cut off as Okoye opens the door, and motions for them to enter. The room is large and warm, lit dimly, an attempt to make the evening softer, Tony thinks. Music plays softly, Tchaikovsky, and it fills the room as well. 

A large table stands in the middle of the room, with several people seated at it. Tony doesn’t look at them all, only one. T’Challa stands from the table as Tony enters the room, a smile immediately coming onto his face. He leaves the table and moves to Tony, and Tony finds himself moving across the floor as well. 

The meet in the middle, with T’Challa reaching out to cup Tony’s face with warm, calloused hands, thumbs brushing along Tony’s cheekbones. The gentle touch feels like fire on his skin, but not destructive. It warms his skin and bones, moving deep into his chest. 

Tony’s face grows hotter by the second, and he blinks quickly, wondering why his face is so sore, when he realizes that he’s been smiling the entire time. Huh. They stare at each other for a moment, T’Challa’s brown eyes holding Tony’s gaze with a focus that Tony didn’t know was possible, not for him, at least. It’s odd, he thinks, how warm T’Challa’s eyes manage to be, matching the warmth of his hands on Tony’s face. 

T’Challa leans forward, and Tony’s eyes flutter shut. The warmth around his face disappears as T’Challa is suddenly pulled backwards by Aneka. Jarvis appears at Tony’s side, taking Tony by the arm as well, murmuring, “And who said they wouldn’t like the Prince?”

Tony’s eyes dart away from T’Challa and up to Jarvis’s face. His lips press into a thin line as his face burns, and he mutters, “Don’t tell mama.”

“I can’t keep secrets from your mother. You know that.” Jarvis turns from Tony to the other occupants of the room. T’Chaka stands beside the table, an amused smile on his face. The Dora Milaje show no expression, not that Tony expected them to. 

Aneka whispers to T’Challa, who continually glances between her and Tony, and he gives a slow nod, sobering as she talks to him. Aneka releases his arm after a moment, and he turns to Tony, expression more controlled as he says, “Forgive me, Anthony, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” Tony says, voice thankfully steady, though his face is still pink, “It was my fault too.”

T’Challa smiles at that, though Tony doesn’t know why, and he looks to Jarvis and, holding out a hand, says, “I’m T’Challa. You are Anthony’s caretaker?”

Jarvis smiles at him, eyes twinkling, and takes his hand. “Edwin Jarvis, and yes, I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, T’Challa. Anthony’s description does not do you justice.” 

Tony’s face burns hotter, and he decides that today is the day he tells Peggy about May 18th. Jarvis will hate it, it will embarrass the Hell out of him, and that’s what he gets for mentioning what Tony told him. 

T’Challa’s smile grows, and he looks back to Tony, who stares at Jarvis, hoping that his gaze holds the amount of betrayal he feels in his heart. Jarvis pats Tony’s shoulder, and says, “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Jarvis looks over to T’Chaka, and says, “Pleasure meeting you as well, your highness.”

“T’Chaka, please.” 

Jarvis inclines his head, a small smile still on his face. “Ms. Carbonell sends her apologies for her absence. An unforeseen problem arose at work, so she asked me to discuss the next item of import with you.”

T’Chaka nods, and says, “Please, take a seat.” 

Jarvis smiles again, and guides Tony toward the table, hand on his shoulder. T’Challa follows, and Tony has to force himself to look away from T’Challa’s face to make sure he doesn’t stumble and embarrass himself even more. They sit down across from T’Chaka and Okoye. T’Challa attempts to sit beside Tony, which Tony found himself hoping for, but Aneka takes the seat beside Tony, and gestures for T’Challa to sit on her other side. 

“For your own good,” she explains at T’Challa’s affronted look, “Fledgling bonds are highly reactive. If you get too close to each other…”

Tony’s eyes widen, and T’Chaka continues for her, “Nothing bad, Anthony. The bond wants to strengthen, become more powerful. Close contact will help it solidify, even if that isn’t your intention.”

Tony pauses, then nods slowly. He remembers learning about that, hearing it from Angie. She said the first time she met Aunt Peggy that she threw herself into Peggy’s arms. Apparently, Peggy caught her in a princess carry, and Angie knew Peggy was the one for her. Peggy said that Angie tripped like the clumsy lady she is, and that Peggy caught her. Tony isn’t sure who to believe, so he usually just nods along to whoever is telling the story. 

“That is the topic Ms. Carbonell wanted me to discuss with you,” Jarvis says, catching Tony’s attention once more. “We all understand that they’ve only just met and need to get to know each other, but fledgling bonds are very, as you said,” he nods to Aneka, “Reactive. So, Ms. Carbonell wanted to discuss the possibility of a courtship.”

_What?_ A… a _what_? Tony looks at Jarvis, eyes wide and mouth open, wondering if he actually heard correctly. His mother didn’t mention _this_ in their plan. 

Jarvis smiles again, this time slightly strained, though well-hidden, and continues, “I know that it may be unconventional, as our cultures are different, but she believes it will be the best way for these fine young men,” he pats Tony’s knee, “To better learn about each other without the bond forcing itself on them before they’re ready.” 

There’s a beat of silence after than announcement. During this silence, Tony stares at Jarvis, wishing that his eyes were lasers; Jarvis stares ahead at T’Chaka, who holds his gaze, brows knit together as he thinks. The Dora Milaje also look at Jarvis, considering his offer, and T’Challa glances between Jarvis and Tony, eyes wide as well. 

Tony looks over to T’Challa after he fails to stare a hole into Jarvis, and offers up a shaky smile. T’Challa returns it, eyes bright, and Tony finds himself caught again in T’Challa’s eyes.

_Jesus_ , his life is turning into a _Hallmark_ movie faster than he can blink. In two weeks, he’ll be living on a ranch, feeding horses apples from his hand and wishing his distant boyfriend would spend more time with him. 

Would that make T’Challa the charismatic newcomer who sweeps Tony off his feet? No, that person is usually average looking, and kind of an asshole, while T’Challa is, admittedly, the prettiest person Tony has ever seen, and hasn’t done anything to put Tony off. 

“-ony? Anthony?” 

Tony blinks quickly, and looks back to Jarvis, who has a small smile on his face. Tony flushes as he realizes that something happened while he was staring at T’Challa.

“Does that sound good with you?”

“D-Does,” Tony isn’t the type to pray, but he’s thinking of doing that if it will help him get out of this situation, “Does… _what_ sound good?”

“A courtship between you and Prince T’Challa,” Jarvis says, eyes holding a note of understanding, “One that will span six months, until he must return to Wakanda.” 

Six months? Only six? Wait… Tony runs a hand through his hair. When did it go from wishing he hadn’t met his soulmate to wishing they had more time together? This is only the second time they’ve been in the same room, yet here he is, wanting even more time. What is _wrong_ with him? 

_Nothing_ , a voice whispers in the back of his head, sounding startlingly similar to his mother’s. _Absolutely nothing._

Realizing they’re waiting for an answer, Tony looks up again and nods quickly. “Yes, yes, that sounds good.” 

“T’Challa?” T’Chaka asks, and T’Challa says, “Yes,” before his father even finishes saying his name. He blushes as well, and Tony watches the colour spread across his face. Alright. T’Challa is even prettier when blushing. That’s fine. That’s information Tony can _definitely_ handle, as long as he doesn’t stare for _too_ long. 

Jarvis clears his throat, and Tony forces himself to look away, realizing that he has, once again, embarrassed himself. T’Chaka nods, and a brilliant smile makes its way onto T’Challa’s face. Tony returns it, wondering if his face will ever cool down. Aneka clears her throat, and Tony takes a deep breath, looking back to Jarvis.  

“So,” T’Chaka says, interrupting Tony’s inner monologue of embarrassment, “The courtship will begin in one week.”

Jarvis nods, and says, “Yes. I will inform Ms. Carbonell, and…” he stands, smiling at them, “It was _truly_ a pleasure meeting you all.”

T’Chaka and the Dora Milaje stand as well. Tony stands, a moment later, and T’Challa does the same. T’Chaka reaches out to shake Jarvis’s hand, then Tony’s, and says, “Thank you for the talk, Jarvis, Anthony.” 

Jarvis smiles, then, guiding Tony with a gentle hand, pulls him from the table. They move to the door, and T’Challa calls out, “Wait!” 

Tony turns around, and comes face-to-face with T’Challa, who dodged Aneka’s reaching hand to jog up to Tony. He reaches out to take Tony’s hand, and sparks dance across Tony’s skin again, akin to the first time they touched what feels like years ago. 

“I can’t kiss you,” T’Challa says, a small hint of a blush still on his face, “Even though I kissed you before, so…” T’Challa lifts Tony’s hand up, then places a soft kiss on Tony’s hand, lighting his skin on fire. 

T’Challa holds on for several moments, only pulling away when Jarvis clears his throat. T’Challa steps back, eyes steady on Tony, and the feel of his kiss remains on Tony’s hand until he falls asleep that night. 

Jarvis pulls Tony from the room, and though Tony can’t figure out the mess of thoughts and emotions rushing together, he knows that something in him likes T’Challa, and the rest of him might be coming around.


End file.
